


It Changes Everything

by jupiter_james



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, M/M, Top Castiel, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 01:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: Castiel is willing to change everything. Dean isn't sure it's enough.Features art by the insanely talentedWinchester-Reload, who allowed me to steal this piece because she was going to throw it away!





	It Changes Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaltyWords (agent4hire22)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/gifts).



[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jupiter143/28439284267/in/dateposted-public/)

Art by [Winchester-Reload](http://winchester-reload.tumblr.com/)

The only protest that Dean can come up with in light of Castiel's suggestion is, "Cas, man, you can't do this."

"I'm certain I can," Castiel answers, clearly missing the point on purpose. His face is set. More set than usual, anyway. "I can, and I will. You have to let me."

" _Let_ you?!" Dean sputters, going for indignation since anything else is slightly impossible at the moment. "When was the last time you _let_ me _let_ you do anything?!"

"That hardly makes sense," Castiel mutters. "I feel like you're trying to get me off track."

"Ya _think_?! Shit, Cas, you're talking about... talking about..." he stutters off. He can't even say it. Can't even _think_ it. The anger and frustration punches wordlessly out of his lungs. "Don't you remember what happened the last time?"

Castiel's eyes narrow. "This isn't last time. Not even close. This is my choice. There's a huge difference."

Dean deflates a little at the intensity. "I know that," he says, suddenly softer than he wants to be. "I just... it's taking... it's _you_. You're taking away who you are."

Castiel shakes his head, but it feels like a nod. "Please," he says. Simple. Final. He holds out a glass reliquary.

With trembling fingers, Dean takes it. He squeezes it in his fist. It's so cold. With his thumb, he pops the lid. He can't stop this. He doesn't always know when to give up or give in, but in this case, he'd rather be the one. He can't leave Castiel out in the cold. Not for this.

Castiel splays his hand out. His angel blade slips silently out of his coat sleeve and into his palm. He offers it out steadily.

When Dean swallows, his throat clicks. But he takes the blade. Castiel needs him. Now is not the time to falter.

Castiel steps closer and the only sound is the rustle of his clothes in the silent room. They're a foot apart.

The hysterical, self-preserving part of his brain wants to snap about personal space, but it's the opposite. He doesn't want it. He never wants it again. Especially after tonight. The only way he can assuage that horrible part of his brain is to slide the blade up against his chest between them. "I don't want to," he says as sad as he's ever been.

Castiel's head tilts back slightly. "I need you to, Dean." The tip of the blade sits just below his Adam's apple.

Dean barely has to move his wrist. The angel blade slides across Castiel's throat.

Immediately Castiel's bright blue grace lights up the wound.

Numbly, instinct only, Dean holds up the reliquary. Slowly, the grace oozes towards it. It's almost the viscosity of blood, but much hotter. Dean can feel it on his face as it dips and twines into the container. Castiel pinches off a tiny bit right at the end and presses it to his neck to close the wound.

Dean corks the reliquary. The angel blade clangs to the ground. Dean's sweating hand presses over Castiel's on his neck. He tries to breathe but it comes out in a huge sob.

Gently, Castiel removes the reliquary and ties off the leather cord. It's easy to slip over Dean's head because the hunter's head has dipped down, eyes squeezed shut. Castiel puts it around Dean's neck. Slides his hands down to cup Dean's face, thumbs brushing the stubble.

"I shouldn't have this," Dean whispers.

Noses brushing together, Castiel whispers back in echo of idiotic months back, "it's a gift. You keep those."

Dean's head tilts slightly to the side, inviting. "Cas."

Castiel doesn't RSVP for the moment. "Thank you," he says.

"Don't thank me," Dean protests in the same intimate rumble. "Just tell me why."

"Because I'm tired," Castiel breathes. "The angels would always hunt me. You would always hunt the monsters. I could never change anything."

Dean grips Castiel's forearms. "This doesn't change anything."

"It changes _everything_ ," Castiel insists. "I'm not a threat anymore. The angels won't hunt me if there's no glory in it. And you." The reliquary slides through his fingers and taps against Dean's chest. "You will be protected with my grace. Always."

"Why did you want this?" Dean asks, scared.

"Because now I can help you," Castiel answers, steady. "My grace can aid you when I'm not there, and I... I can rest. I can just _be_ with you without anything prompting it but the desire to do so." For the first time, his eyes flick down in uncertainty. "If that's what you want."

Dean kisses him with his eyes closed. Not like he normally kisses people. Because this is Castiel. This is the angel... the man... he's wanted to kiss for more than a few beers. He's about to jerk away, but Castiel reads the move. His fingers tighten on Dean's cheeks and the contact stays. It's achingly, terrifyingly gentle. 

Dean's frightened. It's a different kind of scared than when he's on a hunt rapidly traveling south. That fear is helpful. It makes him sharp. Keeps him alive sometimes, though he doesn't particularly care about that part. This fear is bone deep. Something like pre-loss settling down in his core. He can't lose this. There's a freaking _reason_ he's never tried to do this before. And that's because now that he knows what he _has_ , so he knows what it'll cost if he loses it.

The cost is too damn high.

Castiel's having none of that, though. He's done with it. He's given up _everything_ for this moment, so damned if he'll lose it. One of them has to be brave as the clock ticks over, and it sure as shit isn't going to be Dean.

Castiel is the one to lead them to the bed. He's the one to bring them down on it. He's the one to kiss Dean again, slip this tongue between Dean's chapped lips, start unbuttoning the plaid shirt, bring them skin to skin. It's a long time before anything breaks through the despair that's clawing at Dean in equal parts to the raw desire for _this_ , exactly this thing between them that's extremely right.

"I need you to understand this," Castiel says.

Dean gasps, arching up into Castiel above him, letting his body say the things his mouth never would. "Okay," he pants. "Okay."

"I love you," Castiel breathes against Dean's collarbone. "But I'm not sure you know what that means."

Dean musters a split second of an arch look. "I know what it means," he protests.

"What it means from me," Castiel clarifies.

Fair point. Dean _doesn't_ know what it means from Castiel. He can see it in his eyes. All of it. But he doesn't know it. He's felt it, but only in fits and starts because it's from an angel and it's _vast_. "Tell me," Dean growls when Castiel is two fingers deep inside him and filling him inch by inch. 

Castiel presses their bodies together. Splays himself on top of Dean. "It means I'm happy doing this for you. Because I love you. I want to be with you. Because I love you. I am blessed to be human and live a single life with you rather than eternity. Because I love you. And I want everything from you. Because... I hope... that you..." He slides his fingers out and Dean keens high in his throat.

Hopeless against the flood, Dean opens himself wide. Body. Soul. It's all the same fucking thing. He opens his eyes as Castiel braces his hands on either side of Dean's head and slowly, slowly joins them. "Yeah, I do," Dean moans. "I love you, too."

Their foreheads come together softly. But only until Castiel starts to move his hips. Then he pulls back to look at Dean. Measure the sincerity. Measure the truth of it all.

Dean feels a little shitty that he's made Castiel need to do that. But it's so intense. He doesn't really mind the eye contact the longer it goes on and builds the pleasure up higher. It burns in his chest behind the reliquary. Then it wafts out through the rest of him. He can't help reaching up and grabbing Castiel's hands. Bringing them up. Spreading them out. Meeting every one of his powerful, careful thrusts.

He doesn't want to come. He wants to do this forever. He doesn't know what'll happen when it ends.

Castiel topples over the edge first with a breathy cry against Dean's lips. Dean can feel his dick pulse inside him, the warmth spreading. He thrusts his hips up one more time, length sliding against Castiel's stomach and he's coming too, fierce, but not violent. It rolls over him like a wave and he sinks into it.

Time passes. Their breathing evens out. A hand towel appears from somewhere and Dean wipes them up as best he can.

"You're right," Dean murmurs to the ceiling, fingers painting tiny patterns against Castiel's shoulders. "It changes everything."

There's finally not even the smallest trace of sadness when Castiel says, "I know."


End file.
